Underfoot
by mintos013
Summary: Twelve-year-old Don attempting to do homework during a storm, and what Charlie admires about his brother the most.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Numb3rs

* * *

UFO

Creepy

Ratio

**Underfoot 1/1**

Parasite

Consider Yourself Adopted

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**Charlie is seven and Don is twelve.**

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"Don? Why aren't they home?"

Charlie was surprised the ground wasn't shaking. It was thundering so much outside their house that the sound echoed back and forth in multiple layers. There was hardly a second between the loud peels of thunder and the streaks of lightning that were so bright they made it look like daytime outside.

It rarely rained—much less stormed—in California, but when it did, it could be especially nasty.

"They'll be here soon," Don assured, trying to get his homework done. "They were just running to the store. It's right around the block, Chuck."

"Don't call me that." Charlie pulled back the curtains. His wide, dark eyes watched the lightning flash and a torrent of rain attack the backyard.

"Do you think the koi are okay?"

"They're fish, Charlie. Water's sort of their favorite thing." Don frowned as he erased his work for what had to be the tenth time. He'd spent the last twenty minutes on the same math problem, but his answer never matched the one in the back of the workbook. Unfortunately, he was required to show his work.

"But if lightning strikes the pond won't they be electrocuted?"

The flashlight Don had propped up between a stack of his other textbooks suddenly lost its perch, clattering to the table top and rolling across it for the second time that evening. Don snatched the offending flashlight up and irritably set it back into place.

"Then I guess we'll be eating fried fish. Look Charlie, I'm kind of busy. Can't you go play somewhere else?"

Despite his words, Don was mindful to minimize the aggravation in his voice. After all, it wasn't his little brother's fault that the power was out, or that his stupid teacher had given him a stupid workbook because she had it in her stupid head that Don was _at risk of falling behind _in math.

_And why does it have to be math? _Don wondered. Of all things.

"Do you want help?" Charlie asked, glancing from Don's homework to the miserable expression on his older brother's face.

"No," Don answered quickly. A little embarrassed, he avoided Charlie's gaze. "I mean, no offense, but I need to learn to do it on my own is all."

He loved Charlie, but lately math had a way of frustrating Don to the point that he wanted either to **A) **hit something or** B) **give in to the sharp, unforgivable stinging in his eyes, and neither of those were options with his little brother currently underfoot and staring up at him.

"No, I meant do you want me to hold the flashlight so you can see better," Charlie clarified, frowning at the creepy darkness of the house. It seemed so empty and scary without their parents there.

At least Don was there.

"Uh… sure," Don agreed. "—But you have to promise not to start telling me how to do it. Mrs. Olgray _knows_ when we have outside help."

Teachers were without a doubt the eeriest psychics on earth.

"I think her name should be Mrs. Ogre," Charlie said, settling in next to Don and taking the flashlight. "I hope I don't have her someday. She always looks so mean."

"She just doesn't like kids," Don figured, resuming his work. Once again he considered the problem, self-conscious now that his curly haired little _genius _brother was looking thoughtfully at it, too.

_He's probably thinking I'm so slow not to get this_.

Over the next hour the storm continued and Charlie distracted himself from it (and his worry about their parents) by concentrating on Don and the math homework on the table. His brother was intensely focused on a particular problem, attacking it in several different ways. Over and over, Charlie watched Don erase calculations as a silent look of ever-increasing defeat grew steadily on his older brother's face.

And then suddenly—as if inspired—the math lost its chokehold on Don's brain and he was able to solve the problem. Relieved, Don allowed himself a few moments of private victory before leaning over the page and continuing on to the next math problem.

Charlie smiled. One of the things that he admired about Don the most was that whether it was baseball or homework—or anything—his brother never gave up.


End file.
